


Flawless Victory!

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-07
Updated: 2009-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Karl makes kissy-faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flawless Victory!

**Author's Note:**

> **Summary** : [Picture](http://pics.livejournal.com/thalialunacy/pic/002eh88g)-inspired prompt from 3_foot_6: “...I think someone needs to write a fic where Chris is like, ‘IF YOU KEEP MAKING KISSY FACE LIKE THAT I'M GONNA SMOOCH YOU’ and then Karl goes around making that face all the time and SHENANIGANS HAPPEN.”  
>  **Notes** : This is ridiculous porny fluff. (As jazzy_peaches said: “Sometimes you just want cheetos and not a 3 course meal.”)  
>  **Disclaimer** : Obviously fictional content is fictional. Please, please don’t sue me. And don’t be hatin; we just like the fuckin.  
>  **Thanks to** : my usual crew (esp starsfell, hur), _Singles_ , and this [PD2 interview](http://movies.about.com/library/weekly/aapd2cb080804b.htm).

Karl Urban’s a pretty stoic guy, generally. When he sits, he folds his hands and looks at whoever’s across from him. When he stands, he _stands_ , humbly indomitable and _owning_ whatever space he’s standing on. When he fucks up a line, he just pauses for a moment, then smoothly starts over.

But for all that solid, manly professionalism, he has a great, dirty secret: He makes the _best_ silly faces.

It’s probably because of the kids, Chris mused the first time he watched Karl’s top lip rise into an epic Elvis-type snarl repeatedly as if being pulled by a string. And that’s the excuse Karl gives when anyone asks, but Chris has always had his suspicions.

Karl’s a kid himself at heart, in the end, is what Chris thinks. The guy reads comics, plays D&D with Vin Diesel, watches the extended editions of _Lord of the Rings_ because he _likes_ them, not because he’s in them… Etc. Big kid.

How he manages it while looking like a sex god, Chris does _not_ know. All he knows is that it’s fucking endearing.

So when he glances over at Karl one day to see the guy making Marilyn Monroe-esque kissy faces at no one, he can’t help but grin. “Hey, Urban!” he calls across the room. “You keep making that face, I’m gonna take you up on it!”

Karl kind of freezes mid-smooch, then follows through with a huge smacking noise and a wink. “Promise?”

Chris does his own freezing, and is surprised when it takes him longer to recover. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Oh yeah.”

It is _on_.

The next time he sees Karl with lips all a-pucker, he kissy-faces right back at him. Karl, though, ever-unflappable, just blows the kiss at him, not breaking character at all.

So Chris tries different tactics: There’s the eyelash fluttering (backfires; Karl’s are way longer than his), the posing (backfires; Karl’s got that _stance_ …), the Zach-termed Ass Walk (backfires; Karl’s got obscene swordsman’s grace)... All to no avail. Karl’s im-fucking-placable, just throwing whatever it is back at Chris with a wink. And this drives Chris all _kinds_ of crazy. Yes, even in his pants. Which complicates things, but when is life simple, anyways?

So here’s the big guns (or so he thinks): The next time it happens, Chris cocks an eyebrow and gives his upper lip a good dose of porn tongue. Even someone as stoic as Karl can’t _not_ react to that, right?

Wrong.

Chris swears he sees something flash in his face but it’s gone and Karl’s raised an eyebrow at him in a _distinctly_ mockingly come-hither way. “That all you’ve got, Pine?”

Chris feels the flush on his neck and cheeks and curses being so fucking white. Karl’s got that olive exotic thing going on and never looks anything less than virile. He’s disgusting and Chris wants to devour him yesterday. To find out the taste. And maybe dig around for the secret to all this stoicism.

….but pipe dreams are pipe dreams and although Karl’s a pretty non-traditional guy in many related respects, Chris has only ever seen him with women, and very… womanly-women, at that.

From the instant Karl throws down the gauntlet, though…he can’t help but want to take this opportunity to push the point. He’s just that kind of guy. Ergo, he’s determined to extract an ‘Okay, Pine, you win,’ from the imperturbable Kiwi, by hook or by crook.

And if he’s getting fantastic visual images out of it, that maybe turn into other images when his mind wanders, then that’s just a bonus. A purely extraneous bonus. Yup.

So it’s time for the _really_ big guns. Time for the AK-47 of Audacity, the Tank of Temerity, the Sig Sauer of Salaciousness. Etc.

He waits a bit, though. Lets Karl think he’s forgotten, thereby lulling him into delusions of peace and quiet.

Then he brings out his A-game.

He casually walks into Make-up, where Karl is the last to be doused in expensive chemicals. “Hey there,” he says.

“Hullo,” Karl says back guilelessly as Chris comes to stand beside his chair. He’s nearly finished getting primped, his skin even smoother and richer than an hour prior, and his eyes somehow standing out even more than they usually do.

Movie magic, Chris thinks, even though totally unnecessary. “Jose, can you give us a minute?”

Jose smirks knowingly at him, which makes Chris smile and shake his head, then flounces out with only minor protest.

Karl’s looking at him in the mirror, finally a little suspicious. “What’s this about, Pine?”

“Nothing important.” Chris moves till he’s directly behind Karl, then looks at him in the mirror and lets one corner of his mouth turn up. “I just figured you should know…” He leans down deliberately, slowly, putting his mouth within a hair’s breadth of Karl’s ear. “That just because every time you make one of your ridiculous kissy faces, I can’t stop from picturing those same lips wrapped around my cock—“

He lingers on the last phrase, his voice as rough as possible, then pauses. Karl hasn’t moved a muscle, still the picture of calm, and Chris has to fiercely tamp down the impulse to just reach out with his tongue and _force_ a reaction out of him.

“—doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

Then he starts to pull away.

The hand that reaches up to cup his neck and hold him there is lightning-fast, yet thoroughly in control. It pulls him inexorably forward until Karl’s lips are startlingly near his ear, and Chris squinches his eyes shut reflexively as hot breath fans across his skin.

This encounter has forked a different direction than he expected. He’d expected to get laughingly scolded, or patted on the head and shooed away, or, in his more triumphant imaginings, declared the victor, so he’s a little—a little—

“Tease.”

—a little _fucked_ , is what he is. Because he’s never been interested in lying to this man, and he’s not going to start now. Even though it’d be the optimal path towards self-preservation.

So he just swallows and raises his eyes to lock gazes with Karl in the mirror. “Not this time.”

Karl-in-the-reflection stares at him for a moment, searching his face for the veracity of the statement. Then Chris feels the gentle pressure cupping his neck resume, pulling him slowly around the chair until they’re face to face, then still pulling, tugging inexorably until their lips are discombomulatingly close—

Then stopping.

His breath sucks into his lungs and stays there as he fumbles for support on the arms of the chair, feeling the heat coming off of Karl and wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

Then he feels more than hears what Karl says, the breath across his lips a little sweet and a little smokey and a lot hot. “What took you so long?”

Chris exhales sharply and decides to hell with it, closing the space between them and kissing Karl hard, harder than he probably should but Karl takes it, opening his mouth easily so that Chris’ tongue can brush against his, once, twice, until Chris shudders and has to break away.

“Me?” He can’t help it, though; he goes back in for another kiss.

“Yes, you,” Karl murmurs into his lips, then he chases Chris’ tongue with his own, sliding it into Chris’ mouth without preamble.

Chris clutches the armrests and tries to remember to think. “You’re the one who’s so fucking unflappable,” he manages between unbelievably awesome kisses.

Karl snorts. “Only because what I was thinking about is illegal in several timezones.” He pulls back and his gaze drops to Chris’ lips, where it lingers. “You almost had me with the—“ He runs a finger over the top one. “I wanted to—“ He leans forward and traces the path again, this time with his tongue, and Chris hardening cock pulses at him insistently.

He ignores it, too pleased with this admission to not comment. “I knew it!” he says triumphantly. “I thought I saw— And I was _right_.” He grins down at Karl for a moment, probably looking like an idiot but not exactly caring.

“Well, you’re always flaunting these bloody lips of yours! And I always wonder…”

But he doesn’t have to finish. Chris has already dropped to his knees and set to work on the fastenings of his pants. “Well, wonder no more,” he says theatrically as he unearths Karl’s cock. He sucks it down in an instant, sliding his lips as far down as he can then tightening his mouth around the warm, hard flesh.

And Karl fucking _loses_ it, cursing and jerking and clutching onto Chris’ hair like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

Chris hears it like a goddamn fanfare.

He has broken the Epic Urban Stoicism. And good _Christ_ he wants to do it again and again.

The hand in his hair tightens deliberately, so he slides off Karl’s dick but stays close. “What?” he murmurs as he explores with lips and tongue the skin and hair exposed by the hastily shoved-aside clothing.

“Don’t get too smug yet, you bastard. We don’t— _Fuck_ —“ Chris takes note of the spot. “—have time for this.”

Chris moves his attention back to Karl’s cock, licking a stripe up one side. “No one’s due in here after you. Neither of us are due out there for a bit. And if Jose does wander back in …” And down the other. “…he won’t mind the show.”

Karl groans at that, sounding like he can’t decide if it’s a mood killer or sexy as hell.

Chris elucidates it for him. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate this—“ He runs his gaze hotly over Karl’s entire body, then meets his eyes deliberately just as he wraps his hand around Karl’s dick. “—is a fucking idiot.”

Karl makes a sound suspiciously near to a whimper, and reaches down to cup the back of Chris’ head again, once more pulling him in.

Chris obliges, lifting himself up for a kiss, which he thoroughly enjoys. His hand continues stroking up and down Karl’s spit-dampened length slowly, almost lazily, until Karl’s thrusting into him warmly and Chris himself is itchy to get back on with it.

He presses one last kiss to Karl’s lips. “Just let me do this, all right?” He grins. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Karl answers the kiss with another, tongue darting out to swipe at Chris’ bottom lip. “I already don’t.”

Chris’ heart thumps but he can’t let himself get distracted. He settles back on his knees and works his mouth around Karl’s cock slowly, carefully exploring. Enjoying the feel of Karl’s hand in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp when he hits a particularly good spot. Enjoying the _hell_ out of the sounds his work elicits, little grunts and moans and exhalations, some of which sound suspiciously like his name.

He’d stay here forever, having a thorough go at mapping out Karl’s skin, but he has to admit he’s right—they don’t have _that_ much time. Reality will call on them sooner rather than later, so he buckles down and gets to it, sucking in earnest and pushing his lips up and down Karl’s length.

The delicious Kiwi noises stutter to a halt, and he glances up to see Karl gritting his teeth, his jaw ticking with the effort of holding back. “Chris, I can’t— You shouldn’t—“

Chris slides his lips up to the tip of him and licks at the tangy slit. “This is my prize, Mr Urban. You gonna deny me?”

Karl tips his head back imploringly for a moment, then shakes his head and looks back down at Chris with those huge eyes, gaze darkened with want. “As if I could.”

“Oh, you could,” Chris says quietly, utterly serious despite his hand softly mimicking the motions of his lips moments ago. “I’ll stop if you want. I mean, if you—“

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, though, because Karl has leaned down swiftly, jarring Chris’ hand from its ministrations, and sealed his lips over Chris’ in a hard, almost bruising, kiss, tongue swooping in and staking thorough claim. Warmth zings all over Chris on the way to his cock, and he groans, feeling the sound reverberate in two sets of teeth and reveling in the visceral connection.

“What I want,” Karl mutters when he finally breaks the kiss, breathing hard into Chris’s still open mouth, “is you. And if this is what you want to do,” —a smile, Chris can feel it— “then for God’s sake, I’m not going to stop you.” He pulls back so Chris can see his face, see the truth of it, and a dimple appears as he settles back into the chair once more.

“Thank fuck,” Chris says jauntily. “Because otherwise this would’ve been incredibly awkward.” Karl chuckles at this, but the chuckle summarily turns into a flat-out groan as Chris’ mouth gets straight back to work.

There’s no preamble, no teasing touches, no licks or nips, just hollowed cheeks and slick lips and soon, very soon, a Karl ready from such an extended prelude is trying his damndest not to thrust into Chris’ mouth but largely failing, and Chris is letting him, of course, his hand steady on Karl’s on his hip and his throat wide open.

He hears when Karl’s groans take on a keening edge, and the coup d’etat comes in the form of his free hand cupping Karl’s balls, a finger sneaking past to stroke just behind. “Fuck,” Karl grunts out, “I’ll come, Pine, if you don’t stop—“

Chris just hums his approval, and trains his eyes on Karl’s face, wanting to take in every bit of this graceful, steadfast man exploding apart at the seams, at last, and because of him.

And he’s not disappointed. Sweat beads Karl’s brow, and his whole face contorts with the orgasm that washes over the back of Chris’ tongue and down his throat, the accompanying sound guttural, almost feral. It zings through Chris’ senses as he swallows through the contractions, until Karl’s dick twitches in protest and he reluctantly releases it.

Karl is staring down at him, his chest heaving and his eyes endless. “Jesus fucking Christ, Pine.”

Chris tries to soberly raise an eyebrow but fails, the grin too big as he wipes his mouth and chin clear of spit, flexes his jaw once or twice. “Why thank you.” He rests a forearm on Karl’s thigh and tucks Karl’s satiated dick back away, re-fastening his pants without a fumble. “Guess that makes me the victor.” His sits back a little and his eyes twinkle up at Karl. “Come on, say it.”

He probably should’ve known, he’ll reckon later, that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

But he still manages to be surprised when all that swordsman’s grace and unfailing energy suddenly has him turned around and pinned effortlessly and painlessly against the counter.

He blinks at Karl’s reflection in the mirror. Then he sees the slow smile and the huge warm eyes, and feels the hand pulling at his hip. He grins and goes willingly, leaning back against Karl’s slightly larger frame and watching the result in the reflection. It’s quite nice, really— but then again, Karl Urban is pretty much the most flattering decoration a person can wear.

Karl apparently has a goal, though, because his other hand nudges Chris’ arm forward until he’s half-bent (pun intended, Chris thinks, and stifles a laugh) over the counter, his hips far enough back to allow for Karl’s sure hand to unfasten his pants.

Any thought of laughter dies when his palm runs roughly over the head of Chris’ cock, and a strangled groan leaves his throat when those fucking amazing lips find his ear.

“Chris,” Karl murmurs, the accent which has been subdued due to filming and being in LA resurfacing to tease the vowel into submission. Chris’ eyes fly open—not that he remembers closing them, god-fucking-dammit—and jerk to meet Karl’s gaze in the mirror.

The sight nearly undoes him: Karl is still flushed from his own orgasm, Karl has on his Focused Face, Karl’s hand is half in his pants and wholly teasing his overly-interested dick, Karl’s lips are so close—

His head kind of fuzzes and he turns to steal a messy, clacking kiss, needing the touch like a junkie needing a fix. Too soon, Karl breaks contact, and Chris barely holds in a flatly undignified whimper.

Then he and his dignity part ways completely: Karl, ever resourceful, has found a close-lying bottle of lotion amongst the pastel frippery, and before Chris can make a half-assed joke about middle school boys or lotions that smell like dessert or, oh, anything, Karl’s now-slick hand has wrapped definitively around his cock, stroking in time to the breaths ghosting lowly across his ear. “Oh, _fuck_ —“

Karl chuckles hoarsely, then bites gently on the lobe of Chris’ ear. “We don’t have that much time.”

The accent, and the thrum of the voice in head, and the firm strokes— Chris’ fingers curl into fists on the countertop as he tries to maintain, tries not to turn into one of the teenage boys he was just almost-mocking.

But then Karl keeps talking.

“And you haven’t won, you know. Because I promise you I will keep making my… What was it? Oh yes, ‘ridiculous kissy faces’…”

Chris almost manages a laugh, but it’s choked when Karl uses the pause to sink his teeth into Chris’ neck, round the back where it’s ridiculously sensitive, and he surges into Karl’s hand as he feels the orgasm threatening to unspiral from the base of his spine. “Oh god…”

Karl gets the hint and his strokes intensify just the perfect notch while his mouth re-finds Chris’ ear and his eyes lock on Chris’ in the mirror. “And every time I make them, you’re going to stop, and you’re going to think about me. About what it’d be like to have my mouth on you…” Chris watches his tongue reach out to the shell of his ear, briefly, tantalizingly, and he can barely feel it but the _sight_ of it is enough to nearly unspool him— “And then to have me inside you. You can imagine that, too, and contemplate who exactly is the winner there…”

“Fuck!” And Karl bites at Chris’ neck once more and that’s it, he’s toast— “Christ, Karl—“ Watching and feeling Karl’s face and Karl’s hand at the same time, it’s too much— Chris’ balls tighten and he can’t stop the stuttering exclamations that continue to spew forth as the orgasm uncoils from deep in his belly— “I’m— _shit_ —“

And he’s coming, coming hard into Karl’s hand and into the tissue Karl’s procured from somewhere because apparently he’s a fucking magician on every level. As he grunts through the aftershocks, watching and feeling Karl’s lips soothing the too-hot skin of his neck, all he can think is— fuck if he’s is going to do anything but worship from this point on.

He reaches up and clutches at the man behind him, searching for skin until finally sliding his fingers through the only slightly spoiled Bones coiffure to grab the back of his neck and press him closer, as close as possible, while he spirals downwards. Breathing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach, part supplication and part challenge, unable to stop taking greedily while he can— Who knows how long the gods will be so generous.

“Chris—“ Karl starts, then leans back in for another kiss, turning Chris so he can properly wipe him up and put him back together.

“I’ll clear my calendar,” Chris says without hesitation.

Karl looks at him for a minute, then the full smile breaks out, with dimples and wrinkles, and Chris feels his eyes crinkling with his responding grin. “Right. Let’s do.”

“I’m not done tonight until—“

“Knock, knock…” Jose sing-songs mockingly from the doorway. Chris and Karl both freeze, and Thank Christ they’re both clothed and they aren’t _actually_ touching each other at that very moment, but Chris’ mind starts to race with things he could say, shit he could make up—

But it’s unnecessary, as Jose just closes the door and saunters back in to fix the mess they’ve made out of their faces, casual as you please. He tsks as he surveys the damage, then sets to work on Karl. “Karl-Heinz, I will just assume you are wise enough to be held blameless in all of this.”

Karl’s lips twitch but he manages not to smile. “Er, thank y—“

But Jose has already finished with him and turned to Chris. “—but Christopher Robin, you’re in your thirties now, not seventeen!” He dabs at Chris’ face, using notably less gentleness than usual but Chris is not about to be a dumbass and complain.

He will protest about the age thing, though. “Hey! Thirty is hardly ‘in your thirties’!”

Jose makes a dismissive noise. “Keep on dreaming, girl.” Then, finished with the patch job, he steps back and gives them a look of death, one hand on hip, the other pointing sternly. “Moral of the story: Have some patience. Get a fucking room.” Chris tries to protest again, or maybe apologize, he doesn’t really know, but Jose will have _none_ of it. “I mean a room other than this. Or probably any other ones within about a hundred square miles because lordy you _know_ how this town is.”

Chris’ gut kind of flips over and he and Karl exchange a look. “Listen, we’d appreciate it if you—“

Jose raises his hand in a ‘stop’ sign, the affront clear on his face. “Please, don’t even go there. Jose keeps all secrets. Just don’t either of you ever think of ruining my perfect face jobbies again, you hear? I’ll give you this one, especially for—“ He eyes them both up and down. “—such a business, but no more. You got it? Done.”

Chris changes tactics, trying one of his Smiles and some Comradery. “Come on, not even—“

“No, Princess. And if you even _think_ about it, remember: I know what you’re allergic to.”

Chris puts his hands up in surrender. “Right, okay Jose, not a probl—“

“And I know how to make both of you ugly as your grandmother’s mumus.”

“Hey my grandmother didn’t—“

Karl puts his hand over Chris’ mouth. “We promise, mate. Absolutely. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

“Thank you, Mr Urban. Always a gentleman.” He nods, then shoots a glare at them both and shoos them towards the door. “Now get the hell out of my boudoir.”

“Yes ma’am.” Karl pretends to tip his hat as he opens the door for Chris.

Chris can’t just let it end at that, though, so he pokes his head back in at the last minute. “Hey, Jose?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for the lotion.” He grins. “And the tissues.”

Jose peers at him for a second, his lips pursed, but then Chris swears a corner of his mouth turns up. “Never let it be said that Jose is not prepared.”

Chris blinks. “Hey, wait, that means you—“ He feels Karl’s yank on his arm just as he hears Jose’s final “Out!” and sees the backside of the door. He and Karl can barely hold in the laughter as they spill out into hallway, clutching at each other like they always do—

Except it’s different now, Chris realizes. And suddenly they’ve both stopped laughing.

That smile is still in those huge warm eyes, though. “Tonight?” Karl asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Chris nods. “Late. I’ll—“ He makes the international sign for ‘phone’ briefly with his right hand. “I’ll find you.”

“Right. Till then, then.”

Chris grins at the incredible awkwardness that is sometimes Karl’s speech patterns. “Yup. Now go be incredibly geeky somewhere else.” And he throws a smile, then turns to leave.

Only to feel a sharp smack on his ass.

He pauses and looks over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Impressive. Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Chris’ smile is more than a little mischievous. “Excellent.”

 **  
_FIN_   
****  
**


End file.
